Befitting A Lady, or, Lightness Of Foot
by TheCountessAndTheEnglishLord
Summary: Never has Cora Levinson been so captivated with a man as wonderful as Robert Crawley, but Martha has other plans for her passionate eighteen year old. Violet is not keen either, to say the least.
1. Chapter 1

_This came to me when hearing Daylight Goodbye by Message To Bears and I had to write it. Hope you like it!_

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Their feet sweep across the floor, as if flying, gliding in a kaleidoscope of lyrical bliss. Eyes follow them as they spin, curving and fitting together – as if born to waltz in one another's arms. He looks down at her, a smile starting on his face. She is the most attractive woman here, in this ballroom. No, beautiful. Her ebony hair is a stark contrast to her pale, creamy skin, and the gold necklace framing her slender, innocent neck gleams in the light. Her dress is dove grey and edged with burgundy lace that winds around the end of the three-quarter length sleeves and the hem. The waist is chicly cinched in, accentuating her waist. It is magenta, and draws his eye to a most becoming area that really any gentleman would have the respect to not observe at such close quarters. However, he has never considered himself a gentleman and contents himself with enjoying the view.

"I take it you are merely admiring my dress, Lord Downton, so I should indulge myself in questioning you about its decorations. Perhaps then you may then avert your eyes from my waist and reduce my discomfort in your stately presence." She meets his eyes, but hers are amused and playful. He has to bite back another smile.

"Indeed I was. I must say, it is most dazzling to be in the presence of one with such a sense of style," he murmurs, attempting to shut out the whispers ejaculating from all sides of the room.

"Is it my sense of style you admire or what is beneath the style?"

This time, he chuckles out loud, attracting some considerable attention. "Really, Miss Levinson, you must think me so proud as to see you as a doll to observe and not as a human. I never thought such a thing."

"I did not think of your pride, I was thinking of your indiscretion."

"My _indiscretion?_ " They come to a halt in the middle of the room. "Miss Levinson..." He leans in and takes her arm, as if speaking conspiratorially. "Miss Levinson, I believe you to be a most becoming young lady, and I make no secret of that. Thank you for permitting me as your dance partner, your feet are beyond my own capabilities." He smiles again, slipping a piece of paper into her white-gloved hand. "Good-night, Miss Cora Levinson." And he departs, leaving her quite embarrassed and amazed. She looks at the piece of paper, and begins to unfold it when she feels another arm takes hers. She looks up to meet her mother's gaze, who fixes her with a gimlet eye.

"I'll take that, Cora, dear."

"But, Mama..."

"Cora, you know I'm all for a party, but you need to control yourself. You cannot speak so intimately with someone you barely know – especially a gentleman like Viscount Downton!" With that, she gently tugs the piece of paper from her incredulous daughter's grasp and leads her out the room, as if abandoning Cora's ease that arose once on the dancefloor.


	2. Chapter 2

"Robert, what on earth were you thinking, dancing with _Cora Levinson_ , of all people!"

Robert has to swallow a sharp retort, bringing a fist to his mouth to contain his emotions. Waiting until his anger subsides, he watches Miss Levinson from a distance as she is addressed emphatically by her mother, who has her head bent low to hers, almost in the same manner he dipped his brow towards the young woman's not ten minutes ago. But this time it is different; observing the horrified look on Cora's face. He is brought back to earth with his mother's sharp words.

"Robert, are you even listening to me?"

"Oh Mama, really, it's no crime to dance with a pretty woman!" Rosamund rolls her eyes, leaning against the wall and throwing back the rest of her wine. "If Robert wants to take that road, let him. He's twenty in two months time."

"Rosamund, really!" Violet shakes her daughter, who huffs in protest. "Don't talk of such vulgar things, and _stand up straight_ , for heaven's sakes. You are constantly setting an example of the house of Grantham and if you slouch in such a slovenly way, no man shall want you, or even come in speaking distance of you!"

"Well, maybe I don't want a husband!" The eighteen year-old's face is pinched and vexed now, despite Robert's relief at the attention being taken away from him. "Maybe I want to be footloose and fancy-free, and perhaps I want to be able to walk out the door without a man to slow me down with his...his...manly presence!"

"I cannot believe I am hearing this. I cannot believe that my daughter can believe herself to be so special as to not accept the offer of marriage!" Violet is aghast, her expression close to blank horror.

"Mama, Rosamund is entitled to her opinions."

"No! No she is not! Not until she is _married_ and her _husband_ will tell her _what her opinions are_! You two are going to marry sensibly – and that brings me back to _you_ , Robert Crawley! How can you be so intimate with that American, she is highly unsuitable!"

"Mama, you do not even know her."

"I do not have to! If you've seen one American, you've seen them all. Their customs are lax and hypocritical and she will only wreak havoc on the name of Grantham."

"Wha – Mama, the thought of marriage has not even crossed my mind!"

"Then I am highly disappointed with you. Acting so frivolously with her in _broad public_ , where every Tom, Dick and Harry can see you! For Heaven's Sakes, Robert, your actions reflect on _all of us_!"

"Mama, I thought the whole point of coming here was to select an American heiress who can save Downton!"

For once, Violet Crawley is lost for words. She opens her mouth and attempts to croak out a few words, but snide or not, they do not come. Irritated and fed up, she turns on her heel, taking Rosamund by the arm and drags her out the room, beckoning furiously to her son as they go.

Of course, he has no choice but to follow. As he walks through the corridor's he happens to glance inside the library. Sitting on one of the blue sofas, Cora is crying into her mother's arms. A tear rolls down his cheek and he hurries past the open doors, trying to eternalise her smiling face in his mind's eye.


	3. Chapter 3

_Why I cannot tell you, but in this story, Cora does not realise her money will be going to an English lord – she thinks she's only in England for her season – she is younger in this story and less aware of what is to happen to her. I decided this would make her more innocent and interesting._

Cora follows her mother into the library where Martha gently pushes her onto one of the plush sofas. Seating herself beside her daughter, she observes her saddened face. Any intention of diminishing her daughter's happiness was unintended, and she places a hand on Cora's shoulder. Immediately the girl descends into hateful sobs which rack her body and chips at Martha's heart of steel. She takes her fully in her arms and the girl cries on her shoulder. Soon, though, the tears turn into annoyance. Pulling away a little too briskly she jumps up and faces Martha, who suddenly looks panicked.

"What exactly is the matter with speaking to Lord Downton?"

"I think I ought to tell you something."

"Yes, please do, because from where i'm standing, nothing much is understandable!"

"The reason for your coming here is to have you married to a lord. As soon as possible."

Cora looks puzzled. "I...I don't understand. I thought we were here for my season."

"So we are, but you see, my darling, there are plenty of Lords in need of wives and our money can save them."

"So...you're saying, I am going to marry someone I've never met before in my life?"

"Well, you will meet him, honey, but not much. That is, before..."

"The wedding day. I understand."

"I think you ought to read this." She produces the note and Cora claps a hand to her mouth.

"Have you read it?"

"Yes. But it's not for me." With that, she presses the piece of paper into the young girl's palm. Slowly unfolding it, she reads quickly.

 _I have not known you long, but the truth is, Miss Levinson, I am quite entranced by your beauty and intelligence. Please do me the honour of becoming my wife._

Her face crumples and she falls, once more, into her mother's arms. Tears of happiness. Tears of relief. Tears of _love_.

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 _I know this was very short, but i couldn't get it out of my head. I hope you enjoyed it. :)  
_


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